


Blue

by hauntedjaeger (saellys)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Headcanon Accepted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saellys/pseuds/hauntedjaeger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not doing this to be noticed. Inspired by a few headcanon posts on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

"You did not get this from me," Newton says as he hands her the vial. 

Mako nods seriously, as if she could have gotten it anywhere else. Then, because Newton can never just say one sentence, he goes on, "This sample is from Biantal, so it's pretty fresh. It's been neutralized. There's no corrosive effect, and no serious danger from inhalation, but, you know, don't huff it or anything." He squints at her. "You're not going to huff it, right?"

She smiles and shakes her head. "Okay, great," Newton says. "Oh, and don't incinerate the vial when you're finished. Or flush it. Or reuse it, especially not for food. You should probably just give it back to me when you're done." 

"I'll bring it to you tomorrow," Mako tells him, and moves to close the hatch. "Thank you, Newton." 

Alone again, she holds it up to the light. It's translucent and almost more green than blue, and she worries that it won't work, that it will turn out different from what she imagined. But she's not putting it on her entire head, and if something goes wrong she can just trim off the bottom inch of her hair. 

She should have asked how long to leave it on. It should stain instantly, but her hair is dark. Sasha might have some advice, but Mako doesn't want to bother with bleach. Five minutes seems good for a start--long enough to know if it's having any effect, short enough to not do permanent damage. She goes to the sink, pulls on gloves, and applies the streaks with one finger, left and then right. 

Then she realizes she can't move, or it might brush against her face. The blood-clotted tips of her hair dangle, reeking of dead Kaiju, a smell somewhere between flatulence and rotten meat. She sets her elbows on the edge of the sink and stays bent there, avoiding the mirror, counting slowly to three hundred.

She's not doing this to be noticed. Jaeger pilots do more extreme things to themselves than this; even Newton has tattoos. Mako won't stand out in the Shatterdome mess hall, in its carnival of piercings and plumage. And even if someone did notice, no one would ever guess she did this with Kaiju blood. 

No one except Stacker. She can picture his face: not quite smiling, just a glint of amusement in his eyes. Not amusement at her expense, though, and no trace of disapproval. Stacker has never treated her like a child. He might consider this an outward sign of her commitment, but that's not why she's doing it either. 

It won't wash out, she reminds herself. It will never fade. That suits her. It will be nice to have one thing that's guaranteed to last the rest of her life.

Two hundred ninety eight. Two hundred ninety nine. Mako turns on the tap. 

Faint streaks of teal circle the drain, but it's not long before the water runs clear. She shuts it off and uses a threadbare towel she pulled from the recycling station to wring her hair dry, then she combs it out, then she stands up straight, and only then does she open her eyes. Mako catches her breath.

It's perfect.


End file.
